


Jim Moriarty Is My Teacher (and Boyfriend)

by AHintOfPestoAioli



Category: Handsome Devil (Movie), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Au of sorts, College AU, Connor is Adorable, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hamlet - Freeform, Jim is annoying, Jim is hot, Jim isn't evil, Ned and Connor are the readers best friends, Ned is adorable, Sherlock and Handsome Devil crossover, Teacher AU, Teacher!Jim, and funny, crossover fic, ill add tags as i update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHintOfPestoAioli/pseuds/AHintOfPestoAioli
Summary: Imagine if Jim Moriarty was your teacher.... and your boyfriend. Drama and many innuendos ensue....This is that fic that no one asked for but we are giving it to you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written by me (@RulerofPi) and my friend Daria on twitter.  
> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos if ya feel like it.  
> The inspo for this fic came from many late night convos and the fact that Andrew Scott played a teacher in the movie, Handsome Devil (Trailer for movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-j1i94L8PMk) So take a little look at that trailer to completely understand the characters that appear in the 3rd chapter. :)

“Y/N! Do you care to answer the question on the board?” Your college professor, Mr. Moriarty, who wasn’t but 2 years older than you, barked to you while rolling his eyes. Looking up from your textbook you were trying to figure out the equation in, your eyes flitted over the jumble of numbers and letters scribbled on the whiteboard at the front of the class.  
Eyes widening in fear as you looked around to see the whole class staring intently at you, you squeaked out a quick “No thanks”, and shook your head and sunk lower into your seat.  
Your professor sighed, rubbing his temples vigorously, as if he was ready to explode. “Fine. I want to see you after class, Y/N.” he mumbled, turning back to the board, and erasing the prior problem.  
Mr. Moriarty was always very punctual to class, was never caught not wearing a suit, Westwood, he had mentioned on numerous occasions, and he never allowed disrespect. One student named Carl Powers drew obscene things on the board in permanent marker and when Mr. Moriarty saw it, he made the him take it off. Carl then threw a tantrum, whixh all of your peers advised against. Jim kicked him out of class. The next day, he didn’t come to back. Same as the next, and the next. After a week or two, another kid finally got up the courage to ask where their fellow student went. All the professor replied with was, “Oh, he won’t be coming here again anytime soon.” he replied with a devilish smirk, that would make any student in a ten block radius become a straight A student.  
So when about a month later, one student came saying they finally found out what happened to him. Carl had gotten expelled, and lost all his scholarships. Everyone was frightened by Jim.

You were intrigued by your professor though. Probably more so than you should have been. Watching his every move, you studied him, telling your self that you were just trying to unlock whatever it was he was hiding like you had been taught in Psychology, but deep down you knew the truth. While all the other students were scared to even breath in his class, you were fascinated with him.You had found out that he had graduated college early, and began to teach there the year after. So he was only about 2-3 years older than you. He was a very attractive man, standing about 5'8", broad shoulders, and jet black hair that arrived to the campus slicked back, but by the end of the day was ruffled and wild. Hair that you just want to run your hands through, calming him down after a hard say at work.  
Catching yourself daydreaming, you heard the bell ring. Having made absolutely no progress on your Calculus work since the beginning of the term, you had no idea how you were going to do on the finals in a month.  
Telling yourself that everything would be fine, you began to walk out the door with your head down, trying to remember the formula that he had just finished teaching.  
“Y/N. I wanted to speak with you.” His irish accent ringing out louder than ever, as his hand landed on your shoulder. Attempting to withhold a shiver, you nodded slowly, turning back around and waited for the rest of the class to file out. Some of the other students gave you a sympathetic look, while others avoided looking at you altogether, no wanting to get caught up in whatever was going to happen. After the last people left the room, the professor shut the door, and gestured for you to take a seat at the front of the room. Obliging him, you took the seat directly infront of his desk.  
A soft sigh escaped his lips as he walked in front of your desk, leaning back onto his. “Ms. Y/L/N, I’m sure you know why I’ve kept you over today.” he began. “Yes.” you said curtly, knowing that he wanted to speak about your failing grades. “Im assuming that you are having a hard time understanding the reasoning behind the math that we are conducting here, correct?” he questioned, attempting to keep himself completely professional. “Yes.” You said again, nodding.  
He frowned and thought for a second. “Would you,” he started, closing his eyes and trying to force the words out of himself, “Would you like me to tutor you?” he asked quietly, as if he didn’t want to be heard giving a student help.  
You momentarily forgot how to breath at the thought of getting to spend more time in close quarters with him. With a blush creeping on your face and trying to hold back a smile that could light up and entire town, you simply said, “That would be great.”  
He visibly relaxed and rather eagerly said, “Alright then. How about we start right now?” Before you could even get an anwser out, he stood and walked over to the desk right beside you, grabbed the chair turning it around, and sat on it backwards with his face less than 12 inches from yours. Feeling his hot breath on your skin, your blush darkened to an almost crimson tone. He grinned, looking up at you through hooded eyelids.  
After a few seconds of tension, you looked away from him and opened your book. He pointed to a problem and asked you to answer it. ‘He must not be familiar with tutoring’ you thought, mentally laughing. After thinking for a minute, you replied, “79=A to the second power, plus X times 6?”  
“No!” he proclaimed, running a hard through his hair. He explained the formula to you again, in a little more detail and asked you to try it again. You gave him your answer only for it to be wrong as well. After working on it for a little while, and him practically giving you the answer, you finally got it right.  
He asked you the next question, and you got it wrong. “NO! We’ve gone over this EXACT formula for the last 20 minutes and your still not getting it!” he yelled, standing up from his chair, and pacing around the room. “I’m sorry, Mr. Moriarty-” He cut you off, “Jim, call me Jim.” he said from his spot looking out the window. “Alright, Jim, I’m sorry but I just can’t understand it! I have never been good at math, and I probably never will!” You admitted, tears beginning to fall from your Y/E/C eyes. Hearing you sniffing, he came over to your side, and gently put his arm around your shoulder. “You know why I picked you, right?” He whispered into your ear. Furrowing your brows, you shook your head, while wiping a tear away.  
“There are 15 other student in this class failing worse than you. But I don’t care about them. For some odd reason, I can’t help but care for you.” He seemed disgusted with himself for having a weakness. A feeling of hope rose in your heart as a spontaneous feeling came over you. Grabbing his face in your hands, you just verily saw his suprised look in him eyes before your lips caught his.  
After a couple of moments, you broke the kiss, and turned your attention back to the workbook as if nothing had happened, leaving him stunned and breathless. He quickly regained his command, and continued on with his teaching. For the next few questions, you had no problem answering them with ease. He excused himself to go get you both some coffee, and told you to continue answering the mock-test questions. The moment he left the room, you began to have trouble again. He arrived shortly after you finished the last question, with two cups of black coffee in his hands. A small smirk grew on his face as he handed you the cup. He took the test in his hands and looked it over. His smile grew larger and larger until he began to frown. You instantly became upset, knowing that you had gotten some wrong.  
“When did you start having problems again, Y/N?” he asked, gently setting the test back on your desk. “The moment you left the room.” you muttered, not wanting to admit that you needed him.  
“Well then,” he said with a grin, “I guess I’m going to have to tutor you more often then. My place, or yours?” he asked, grabbing your backpack and his paperwork and keys.  
“Yours.” You said standing up and pecking him on the cheek and sauntering out the door with a huge smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detention happens

You stepped cautiously into the bare classroom that felt void with no eager young students buzzing quietly around their desks. You peered around, looking for any sign of life as you came up empty-handed.You must’ve been early.  
Ever since Jim had begun to “tutor” you, you started to progress in your knowledge of mathematics. However, these new found skills you had acquired proved to be futile when it came to your studies in Language Arts. You wished vehemently that Jim could teach you English too. To you, Shakespeare, Dickens, and the likes of them seemed to write riddles, trying to trap their reader into their bland stories as if that was the only way they could get attention to themselves. Their old English style of writing did nothing more than confuse you as well. So your grades began to fall rapidly in said subject.  
Walking out of your English class one day depressed because you fell asleep, smudging your makeup and flattening your hair-do, you passed the school’s bulletin board. You glanced up at it, skimming everything that students were offering. French, Chemistry, and Math tutors were all choices that were readily available. No english tutors though. You sighed, looking at the one of the Math ads. You smiled brightly, remembering how many happy memories you had made with Jim ever since he offered to tutor you. Shaking your thoughts from your head, you continued your search. Up in the very corner, you noticed a piece of paper that would most likely be missed by others. You frowned, and reached up, un-pinning it from the board. “English Tutor. Call the number if convenient, if not, don’t call.” You raised a questioning eyebrow at the strange wording of the advertisement. It was if the person was being put up to the challenge to tutor someone. You jotted down the number quickly though, and pinned it back up. You didn’t care whether the person actually wanted to help anyone or not, you just wanted someone the help you pass this horrendous class.  
Footsteps echoed through the classroom, startling you from your thoughts. You spun around, looking for the person. You eyes landed on a tall figure with dark curly hair and a sturdy frame. He caught your eyes, and immediately looked down to the floor. Shuffling his feet, he mumbled, “You the one who needs tutoring?” You smiled and strode over to him, “Yes. My name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, offering to shake his. He stared at your open hand curiously, before remembering what the social cue was and filling your small hand with his large one. It was a short and awkward handshake. You just smiled up at him reassuringly. He started to smile back before a realization came over his face. “Oh! My names Sherlock.” He blurted out. You chuckled, gazing down to the floor. You had to admit, this curly haired giant was attractive, but not your type. “I’m Y/N. Let’s get started, shall we?” You cocked an eyebrow towards him and gestured to the desks at the front of the class. “Lets.” He said taking a seat. You nodded, and took your seat beside him.  
The lesson started off slow and cautious, but nearing the end, you had begun to coax him out of his harsh exterior. By the end of your lesson you were both smiling and laughing, joking and learning new things. You learned that he is borderline sociopathic, which you quickly dismissed, pointing out the fact that he was teaching you. “I wouldn’t normally do this.” He spat, making you wonder the rest of the lesson about that sentence.  
“Well. I think we are about done.” Sherlock noted, a melancholy look spreading across his face. You glanced up at the large clock above the chalkboard. You had overstepped your agreed upon time by about fifteen minutes. Sighing, you started to close your books and place them back in your bag. Just as you were preparing to stand up and thank him, you noticed him subtly slip a small piece of notebook paper onto your desk. He quickly continued putting his work up, and stood up from his desk. You smirked to yourself and picked up the piece of paper. A small line of numbers was scrawled out followed by his signature. You saw him stop his movements and study you as you looked at the note. You looked up at him, and raised an eyebrow, as if asking his intention. “Oh!” He said after collecting his thoughts for a moment. “I know you’re in a relationship, I’m in your math class.” He began, restraining himself from rolling his eyes. You withheld a half smile, and asked, ”You don’t like Professor Moriarty?” Saying his professional name once again was awkward because he liked for you to call him Jim. Unless you were in class, then he would just give you a side smirk, full of mirth that was suggestive which made you blush.  
Sherlock shuffled his feet and looked at the tile floor. “Not my cup of tea.” he said after a moment, still not meeting your eyes. “Ah.” You nodded, the conversation had quickly turned awkward at the mention of your boyfriend, so you decided to take your leave. “So tomorrow at 5:30, right?” He asked, changing the subject. “Yep.” you smiled. Walking towards the door, you turned around to ask him a question that had been bugging you, only to find that he was following closely behind you. He bumped into you in the wide doorway, quickly muttering out apologies.”You’re fine.” You said putting a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. He nodded and took a step back.  
You looked out into the hall, and saw Jim standing at the end, staring at you. His arms were crossed and his face was flushed deep red. You waved and smiled, but Jim turned and started walking away briskly, ignoring you. You frowned, and turned your attention back to Sherlock. “Why, exactly did you put up the advertisement for tutoring?” He looked away and said, “I lost a bet.” You gave him a confused look and he huffed. “My friend John, bet me that I could win a game of charades. I didn’t, so I had to become a tutor for someone.” He explained. You chuckled, “Well, I hope you don’t regret becoming one, because I sure don’t.” His eyes widened as he quickly assured, “No! Not at all.” You went your separate ways after saying your goodbyes.  
The next day was a Friday, and your english teacher gave you a pop quiz. Although Sherlock’s tutoring made you learn a lot, you still only had one lesson and it was not enough to help you on the quiz. You asked Sherlock after the class if he could give you an extra lesson earlier in the day before math to get you caught up. He agreed and planned on starting those on Monday. You and Sherlock discussed the test for a few minutes before you took a quick glance at the clock, dread spreading through you. You were so distracted by your score on the test, that you were ten minutes late for class. Jim was fuming when you arrived, huffing hard from running the length of the building. “Finally!” He exclaimed, loosening the collar of his shirt and gripping his hair hard. “Sorry Jim! I was busy with English.” You told him as you passed his desk on your way to yours. Scanning the class, you noticed that Sherlock had yet to return from English as well. Taking your seat, you heard the door swing open. Sherlock’s broad shoulders burst through the doorway, as he nods to Jim while swiftly taking his seat in the front row. Jim looked between you and Sherlock, attempting to make a connection between you two. “Are their anymore!?” Jim shrieked, placing his head in his hands, and running his thin fingers through his hair. Sherlock gave him an odd look, and said, “No it was just me and Y/N.” Jims eyes flew up to meet yours, a wild, vicious look on his face. He was red, and his hands were shaking from anger. You knew he had the wrong idea, but there was no way to say anything from where you were.”If anyone else is late to class this entire semester…” He began low, “If you do,” He said, looking around the class as a warning,”Well, let’s just say that your grade at the end of the semester may not reflect the grades you have been getting.” He said with a sneer, causing the class to hum in fear.  
After a moment, once the students calmed down, Jim decided to continue on with the lesson. He whipped a piece of chalk out of the inside pocket of his expensive black westwood jacket, and wrote a problem up on the board. “You, answer this.” He said boringly, pointing to someone in the front row. The student answered incorrectly, and Jim decided to try again. He pointed to another student, and that student also answered incorrectly, frustrating Jim further. “Alright, you bloody idiots. I’m going to ask this One. More. Time.” “Ben! Give me the answer.” He exclaimed, pointing to a funny looking boy at the desk next to yours. Ben, visibly shaking, murmured, “I- I don’t know.” Jim raised his eyebrow, stepping closer to him. “Y-you don’t know?” He mimicked, slamming his hands on Ben’s desk. You flinched hearing Jim’s palms hit the table. Fear coursed through Ben’s blue eyes while a fire burned in Jim’s brown ones.  
The boy, clearly scared, slunk further into his chair. Jim didn’t move an inch. “Jim.” You said in a hushed tone, attempting to pull him away from the student. “In my class…” Jim said in a low voice through gritted teeth, “You call me Professor Moriarty!” He yelled, flashing his almost black eyes towards you. He backed away from his position over the other students desk and took two strides to the front of yours. You stared him down as he lowered his face in front of yours. “Do you understand?” He growled deeply, looking at you again, running a hand through his brown messy hair. “Yes Sir, Professor Moriarty.” You whispered with a smirk, watching the expression on his face change from anger to something else for a split second, before returning to anger. His reaction caused you to wonder what it would be like to have detention with Jim.  
Jim walked back to the front of the class and resumed teaching. “Now. I’m going to give you a simple test, if you get less than sixty percent correct, you get detention. Am I understood?” His demand was met with a chorus of “Yes, sirs.” You knew that if you got detention with Jim, he wouldn’t give you a bad grade. You trusted him.  
He handed out the quiz, and you decided to have a little fun with it. Most answers you knew, but decided to go ahead and pick the answer that was closest, but still not correct. You threw in a couple correct answers so he didn’t think you were doing it deliberately. You fluidly signed your name at the top of the test and handed it in when he walked around collecting the papers. You studied him as he flipped through the small stack of papers, grading each one. He paused, eyes flicking up to you, clearly getting frustrated. You just smiled innocently at him. Lips pursed, he gave everyone their scores except for you. The bell rang, all of the students making a mad dash for the door, feeling the awkward tension in the room.  
“Y/N.” Jim called as you passed his desk. “Yes, Sir?” You drew out the vowel, leaning a hip against his desk. A cocky grin spread across your lips as you watched him stride gracefully over to the large wooden doors and lock them. He turned back to face you, “What was that all about?” He asked in a careful, quiet tone. You feigned innocence. Your eyes like a Does, you placed your hand gently over your chest and gasped. “Whatever do you mean?” You asked, pushing yourself off the desk and, sliding unknowingly, into Sherlock’s vacant seat. The tips of Jim’s ears were burning red, his fists clenched tight. “Why were you late?” He bit out, now taking your spot leaning against the desk. “I had a test in English.” You said calmly. “Half of the bloody campus is in your English class! None of them were late!” He spat. “Except for ‘Sherlock’, of course.” He gesticulated, rolling his eyes hard when he said your other tutors name. “Do you have a problem with Sherlock?” You asked him, eyebrows drawn up into a displeased frown. “Do I have a problem with Sherlock?” He repeated slowly, searching your face. “That is was I asked, yes.” You said, mirroring his look.  
“My problem, is with you!” He exclaimed, progressively getting louder. “Sure doesn’t seem like it…” You huffed under your breath. You traced lines on the desk, not looking at Jim, as you heard him stepping closer to you. Two hands came flat down onto the desk, snapping your head up to see his face right over yours. You glared at him as he whispered, “What did you say?” His pupils grew larger as they looked into your eyes. It suddenly became uncomfortably warm in the large classroom.  
You could feel his hot breath on you as you asked, “What did I do to you?” He brought his face even closer, his lips ghosting yours. “I will be your English tutor from now on.” He stated, ignoring your question. You realized that he was jealous of Sherlock, and thought that you were cheating on him. You wished that you had noticed earlier, but it was too late at that point anyways. “Took you long enough.” You said with a smirk, glancing down at his pink lips. He frowned for a moment, before closing the gap between the two of you, placing his middle and forefinger underneath your chin. His other arm snaked around you, and landed on the small of your back. He kissed you hard, pulling you closer.  
After the kiss was broken, you smiled up at him. You tried to kiss him again, but he simply placed his finger on your lips, causing you to frown. “You’re still in detention, honey.” He said, a sad half smile on his face. You crossed your arms as you watched him walk over to the chalkboard and draw up some equations on one half, and a quote from Macbeth on the other. While he was writing, you reached for your phone to check your messages. You searched all your pockets and opened your mouth to ask Jim if he had seen your phone. While he was still writing, you saw him pull something out from his back pocket and hold it up. You inspected it momentarily, before seeing that it was your phone. “Detention rules.” He said, using the chalk to point to a piece of cardboard that was stuck in every classroom. ‘Rule #1: No Cell Phones.’ You bit your lip, it was your turn to be angry now. He turned around and looked at you with a suggestive smirk. “Come on then, let’s get to it.” You cocked an eyebrow and smirked back at him as he smoothly walked over to your desk, hands behind his back. ‘This should be fun.’ You thought. He looked at you through his lashes, smirk never leaving his face. With a loud bang, three workbooks were slammed onto your desk. Your smirk instantly fell. Two math books and a red Macbeth book. You glanced at them, then up at him. He flashed his teeth, and went back to his desk, reciting poetry all the while. That was when you realized: Detention with Jim sucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new land, new friends, same old teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Daria, who wanted me to post it for her. This is where it officially crosses over with the Handsome Devil movie. So check out this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-j1i94L8PMk to understand what the characters and stuff looks and acts like.   
> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos!  
> Enjoy!

Being your boyfriend’s student came with upsides and downsides. Sure, you’d get the occasional extra mark, but if he was a good teacher, on most days, he would treat you exactly the same as any other student. To your misfortune, Jim Moriarty was a good teacher. Great, even. Almost nobody failed his course, they were too scared to. There were always rumours around the school about what he had done to this kid and the next, it sorta made you giggle. Recently, Jim had moved to a large school in Ireland to teach in a more intimate, small class environment. Of course you, having always wanted to go to Ireland, went with him. The school was older, and mostly boys. All the interiors of the classes were painted a warm yellow, and the people were quite nice. This meant having to say goodbye to Sherlock and your other friends. Just like that, your new semester had begun. You had English, Math, Art, Biology, and Psychology. You had befriended some boys named Ned and Connor, and since the classes were small, you were bound to have at least two classes with them. There were almost 3x the teachers than there were students though. The chances of Jim being your teacher would be slim. You had to admit, it may be a nice change in the relationship and school experience. “Hey, Y/N. Connors got rugby tryouts after school, but you should stop by our room. I have some records I’ve been meaning to show you.” Ned asked you on the first day of classes. You didn’t want to tell them you were dating Jim, they may think of you differently. So you agreed, glad to know a few people. The bell rang and the three of you headed to your English class. The halls were completely naturally lit by the morning sun, and you could see the long green hills running endlessly. You liked this much better then your old school. “Here, Y/N.” Connor tapped a seat between him and Ned, and smiled. You unpacked your stuff and settled, before looking up at the board. You gasped quietly, recognizing that all-to-familiar handwriting. It couldn’t be, the school was huge. Before you could confirm your assumptions the door slammed shut, making everyone jump. “My name is Mr.Moriarty and you may call me that and only that. I expect your full attention at all times, full uniform at all times, and if i see one single cell phone, you will not be seeing it again.” He mumbled, scanning the class and smirking as he met eyes with you. You swallowed and sunk into your seat. The students were petrified, after being shouted at, mimicked, and embarrassed. One guy tried to make noises at James while he was writing on the board. Mr. Moriarty picked him up by the collar, threw his bag out of the room, and shoved him with it. By the end of the lesson, the only thing written on the board was “Disrespect will not be tolerated.” You were handed two books, Hamlet and Lord of the flies. You grinned at the play as Jim winked at you. He knew how much you enjoyed it. Professor Moriarty spent a good hour just lecturing about classroom behaviour. Suddenly, Ned rolled his eyes. You looked quickly at Jim, and he erupted. “Sir, I just-” Ned tried to interrupt his screaming but it was no use. “Have I not just specifically outlined my policies on disrespect?!” He shouted, slamming a ruler on his desk, making Ned flinch. After a few days in that class, people began to adjust to Jim’s crazy ways. “I need to surprise them more. They’re getting used to me.” He mumbled to you as you both laid flat on the bed. It was Wednesday night at around 10pm, and both of you were exhausted. You chuckled at his comment. You were pretty much the only girl around, and usually you didn’t mind, but boys were always in your face. Some to flirt, some to be rude, and some to be just plain boys. They all seemed obsessed with rugby as well. Connor most of all, although, he didn’t let it consume him as other boys had done. Jim liked to pick on you three. Ned was just a smart ass, Connor was always adorably confused, but also extremely sassy, and you were just, well, Jim’s. Ned was tall and scrawny, with fiery red hair. Connor was ripped, and always looked angry. But his smile was award winning, and despite his long hair, he was a gentleman. “I don’t mind your friends, but all these other boys talking to you… I don’t approve. If they try anything-” Jim began. “They won’t, I’d kill them.” You smirked, kissing Jim and turning off the light, ready to sleep. “Ah, ah ah. Math homework.” James coughed. You groaned and trudged over to your desk, as he laughed. The two of your spent the rest of the night reading Shakespeare together and cuddling, reenacting scenes. Jim made a very decent Lady Macbeth. - “Page 68, Connor, not 38.” Professor Moriarty corrected him for the third time that class, with thick annoyance in his voice. It was rugby finals month, and most of the boys were off their game. They were distracted, unfocused, and derailed. Connor tapped his feet nervously. Usually reading helped him cope, but he couldn’t read with his hair in his eyes. You looked over at him and then back at Jim, biting your lip. “When shall three- ahem, when shall we three meet again, in lightning- sorry, ahem, in thunder, lighting, or in rain.” Connor mumbled through the sentence, tripping on his words. Jim put down his book and took a seat at his own desk. “Connor.” “Yes sir?” “Have you bloody forgotten how to read?” Jim hissed. “No sir, Mr. Moriarty, it’s just i can’t see all too well..” He mumbled. Jim stood up and clapped his hands together. “Right then. By Monday, I want you back in class, hair cut nice and neat, ready to read. Clear?” He grinned. Connor immediately looked up at him in disbelief. Everyone shared a confused, stunned look. “You can’t do that.” Connor said. You raised a brow at Jim, who avoided you. “Am I making myself clear?” The Irish professor repeated. “No.” The witty teen shot back. The bell rang but no one dared to stand up. “Monday. Or I’ll be taking care of it.” The teacher smirked, winked at you, picked up his briefcase, and slowly walked out of the room. The class burst into conversation of confusion and anger. “That fucking twat! He’s got no idea what he’s talking about!” Connor shouted to the boys. You sighed, realizing that you were going to need to pick sides. “Jim, you were a bit harsh on him today…” you mumbled at dinner. He stopped chewing and looked up at you with hooded eyes. “The boy needs to be put into line. All of them do. It’s a private school, they’re going to look bloody presentable.” He said, biting into his potato, his white teeth glimmered. You raised a brow. “So what are you going to do?” You asked him. He just hummed and stood up, put his plate away, and disappeared to grade papers. You sighed and cleaned up, checking your phone to see that Connor had messaged you. He and Ned wanted to meet up for coffee. “I’m going out, professor.” You smirked, shutting the door before he could reply. “Can you believe what he did today?” Connor said, sipping from his cup, obviously still upset. “I thought it was quite funny,” Ned smiled, ruffling Connor’s head. “Plus it’s only Tuesday, he’s given you roughly a week to get sorted.” He took a bite out of his pastry. You giggled. “I’m not doing it. Don’t care what he says, he can’t make me. There.” The teenager shrugged, pulling out his English binder. You and Ned followed, as you began working on a group presentation. Ned was in your math class as well, and he seemed to be quite good at it. Even having Jim as your tutor, you still did poorly sometimes. Ned knew you got nervous sometimes, so he held your hand on the way to class and gave you pep talks through scribbled notes on your workbook. Jim didn’t like that. “He does WHAT?” He shouted after you told him about your math class rituals with the Redhead. James was fuming, pacing around the room, ready to break something. “Calm down! He’s a friend!” You yelled. Jim continued to lecture you on the dangers of idiotic teenage boys. “He’s gay.” You finally blurted out. He stopped shouting and sat on the couch, staring at you. “…really?” He whispered. You nodded and he slowly stood up. “I’m sorry, love.” He placed a kiss on your head and walked away. You sighed. You don’t know how much longer you could keep your relationship hidden from your friends. Friday came quickly. Everyone shuffled into their seats, one by one. Connor and Ned took their places beside you, and smiled when they walked in. Jim soon followed. He glanced at Connor, who’s hair remained the same. A small smirk took over his face. He was enjoying this. “Tick tock…” He sang, flashing his teeth. It was enough to scare anyone. Connor gritted his teeth. “Good afternoon everyone…just a tiny reminder that you presentations for the Hamlet scene will be pushed to Monday next week, instead of two weeks.” He grinned at Connor. Everyone let out a moan. “Now now, don’t make a big fuss out of it.” He said, ending the discussion and beginning the lesson. Soon it was lunch, and you three decided to eat outside. It wasn’t raining today, which was a miracle. “He absolutely hates me. I don’t know what to do.” Connor laughed, sipping his juice. Ned nodded. “Well, Y/N, have you ever cut hair before? Looks like Connor here needs our help.” He sighed. You laughed. “Can’t say I have, no.” Connor’s eyes widened. “Never in a million years. I don’t trust either of you.” He remarked. The three of you looked up to see a few of the rugby jocks headed your way. “Hello freaks.” He loosened his uniform tie. “Which one of you is doing my English coursework for me?” He spat. “How about none of us, and you go get a life?” Ned barked. “Oh Neddy… you utter bender..” he grumbled before picking up the skinny ginger by the collar, and punched him in the nose. You screamed for help as Connor pushed you away, lunging himself at the boy, continuously smashing his face with his bloody fist. James ran out. “Break it up! Now!” He tore the two boys apart with force, gripping them both tightly by the shoulder. They wielded under his firm gasp, almost whimpering in pain. “Head office at 3pm. If either of you are late or don’t arrive, you will be suspended for the month.” He ordered, before turning to the jock. “Get out of my sight.” He hissed. The boy scrambled away as Jim checked up on you and Ned, before disappearing back inside. “Are you alright?” Connor asked Ned, who simply nodded. You hugged them both tightly as the rain began to pour down. The three of you laughed a little as Connor washed the blood from his hands in a small puddle. “A little water clears us of this deed… what’s done is done.” Ned said in a high pitched voice, mimicking Lady Macbeth. “SHIT! WE’RE LATE!” You yelled, running back in with the two boys behind you. Standing outside Mr. Moriarty’s class, late, drenched in blood and water, was not a good look. The black-haired Irish man ignored you three for a few minutes before swinging the door open. Water dripped from your hair down onto Jim’s shoes, making Connor snicker. “Sit down. Now.” He whispered, pushing the three of you in. “Ned, Y/N, and Connor will be joining me for detention every day next week. Would anyone like to join?” James smiled. You shut you eyes and groaned. “Sir, we were only 5 minutes-” Ned started before being cut off. “How about you, Mr.Smith? You seem to be good at preoccupying yourself. Especially during my lessons.” He picked on a random student who gulped. “What was it you were doing, again? Ah..yes.. you’re a bit young for those type of videos, don’t you think?” Jim said evilly. The student turned pale. “Great. See you then.Anybody else? Hm? No? Shame. Moving on.” He quickly piped back up and returned to his lesson. Ned, Connor, and you all shared a look of dread. This week wasn’t going to be fun. - James laid in bed shirtless beside you, twirling your hair in his fingers. “Do you think you could extend my essay deadline a few days?” You asked him, grinning. He nodded. “Only if you tell Ned and Connor about us.” He rebutted. “I can’t, they’ll stop talking to me!” You shouted. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” Jim grumbled. You angrily hit him. “They are my FRIENDS! Something you probably don’t understand!” You flipped the other way, just wanting to go to bed. He put an arm around you. “Darling, I didn’t mean-” He started, but you didn’t let him finish. “Yes you did.” So you two went to sleep, both angry at each other and yourselves. James knew was that he was going to get revenge on this Connor kid for tearing you away from him, and he knew exactly how. You, Ned, and Connor spent Saturday the park reciting your Hamlet presentation. You guys were excited, but also extremely nervous. You didn’t care about what anyone else would think, only Jim. He put a lot of pressure on you three, only because you were interesting. Everyone else was so afraid of him, they never amused him. He had broken phones, thrown desks, smashed chairs, nothing was new to anyone. Mr. Moriarty was just a man with a short temper. Monday came all too soon. Walking into your English class was quite scary, as you saw one single chair sitting at the front of the room. You looked at Ned, a worried look sprawled across your face. Everyone took their seats, but Connor was nowhere to be seen. “He did not just abandon us on the day of the presentation. I’ll kill him. Swear to god.” Ned grumbled, looking around the room. Finally, Professor Moriarty walked in, slamming the door shut. You slumped into your seat and covered your head with your hands. “Awww.. Connor didn’t show?” He whined dramatically. “Maybe he’s getting his finally overdue haircut!” He whispered loudly, placing a hand over his mouth for dramatic effect, then chuckled. You rolled your eyes and chewed your gum, blowing a bubble. “SPIT THAT OUT!” Jim screamed at you, making you jump. “But Sir, I just put it in and-” “NOW!” He yelled. You raised your eyebrows, took the gum out of your mouth and threw it at him. Everyone in the room silently gasped. He looked down on the chewed up stick on his shoe, then back up at you. His teeth were gritted and his face red. He opened his mouth but before he could speak, the door flung open. The principal stood in the entry, with a hand on Connor’s back. “Found your pupil playing rugby with the coach, Mr. Moriarty. Thought I’d return him to you.” He stated, pushing Connor forward. James grinned, walking over and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Why thank you, today’s an important day. Wouldn’t want him to miss the lesson, now would we?” He mumbled. The headmaster nodded and walked out. “Sir, I was just uh, getting my mind off things.” The teenager mumbled. James nodded, almost understandingly, guiding him to the chair that sat alone at the front of the room. Connor shot you and Ned a confused look, and you looked at Jim, who had a shiny pair of scissors in his hand. Your jaw dropped almost slightly. Connor was already sitting when Jim placed a hand on his head. “Now listen to me. All of you. Why do you assume this lesson isn’t for you? Connor boy had about a week to get his haircut on his own time. Did he? No.” He smiled, tapping this scissors on his pants. “So today’s lesson is quite short, if I must say..” He winked at that boy sitting below him. “When you’re in my class, you behave.” Connor sat, face red with anger and embarrassment. “Get the fuck away from me!” He screamed, pushing Jim. Everyone watched in shock as James placed a firm hand on his shoulder and cut the front part of Connor’s long hair. “Don’t you dare disrespect me. Not me.” He whispered straight into the boys ear. Connor stood up and punched James in the nose, instantly making him bleed. You jumped up and pulled Connor away, running to Jim’s aid. Ned looked at you in confusion. “Y/N I’m fine, get away.” He whispered. “No, no you’re not okay, you’re bleeding.” You whined, holding his head up. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Connor questioned, avoiding the shorter part of his hair that fell in his face. “Helping my boyfriend.” You hissed, grabbing tissues from Jim’s neat desk and wiping the blood off his throat. Ned and Connor stared at you, before rushing out of the class before things got worse. “GET OUT!” Jim screamed at the other students, who all ran as fast as they could. “You’re a bloody idiot, Jim, a fucking idiot.” You whispered, cleaning up the last bite of blood. “That’s all for today’s lesson.” Was all he said before standing up, collecting his belongings, and disappearing. You slumped onto the wall and slid down, sighing. A few days passed, Connor didn’t show up for class for the next week. Ned questioned you about Jim, and although he was shocked by it, he accepted it. You and Ned did the presentation by yourselves, and scored a very high grade. No one in the class dared to ever step out of line after what had happened on that Monday. “I graded your essays. A bloody train wreck, I must say,” Professor Moriarty stated, a huge stack of papers towering over his desk. “Have you forgotten how to spell? Or site your references? And Jesus Christ for the love of God…” he stood up with a particular essay in his hand. “I WENT OVER QUOTE INTEGRATION ENOUGH TIMES FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND IT!” He screamed, throwing it at the back of the room to one of the rugby players. You and Ned snickered. He walked around the room, stopping at desks to drop a paper on each one. “There was one essay, in particular, that stood out the most,” he returned to his place at the top of the class. “Connor O'Reily’s. My insane English teacher.” He read out loud. Everyone laughed and Jim smirked. “If only Conny was here to read-” At that moment, the door swung open. Connor walked through, and slammed it shut, as if to mock Jim. His hair was even, shorter all around but styled extremely nicely. “Professor.” He greeted with a smug look on his face. Jim squinted and folded his arms. You and Ned shared a smile. “Nice haircut. Now get your ass in that chair and know that if you ever think about skipping my class for that long a time period ever again, or you’ll be getting a much more dramatic shave.” Jim smiled, tossing his essay to him. Connor looked down and frowned at the large “F” on his paper. “I thought you said this one stood out the most?” He complained, taking a seat. “Oh It did. But don’t talk shit about your professors in a paper they’re going to grade.” He said. Connor sighed and you smiled down at your own paper, the letter “A” smiling up at you. Jim winked and continued on with his lesson, and things went back to normal. “Kind of a dick move.” You told James at dinner that night. He laughed. “No, I helped him.” “By embarrassing him, giving him a horrible haircut, and failing his paper?” You questioned, taking a sip of Jim’s beer. He pulled it away from you. “Love, his haircut is nice if you ask me.” He smiled. “Yeah, cuz someone else fixed it.” You argued, leaning back into your seat. “Someone else? Mm, no…” he scrunched his nose and smiled widely. Your jaw dropped and you looked at him in disbelief. “Jesus christ.” You said. “He came back to see me after school, to apologize. Rest is history.” Jim smirked, swishing his wine around in his glass. You shook your head. “Don’t know why you’re not already a fucking hairdresser.” You giggled. He stood up and stalked over to you, running a hand through your hair, giving you chills. “Interesting… I’d have a good model as well. A lovely girl to practice on..” he mumbled and you jumped up, hitting his arm. “I’m just kidding! So aggressive, you need to stop hanging out with the rugby boys.” He smiled and you rolled your eyes, beginning to walk away. His tone lowered. “Where is it?” “…where’s what?” You whispered back. Jim raised a brow at you, folding his arms. “Oh that….yeah, we didn’t get ours yet, so..” “Darling, I’m a teacher at this school, I know when report cards are distributed.” He stated, holding out his hand. You sighed, reaching into your beaten up bag and handing him crumpled sheets. He looked over your grades with a stone expression, then glanced up at you. “How long have you been hiding those math grades from me?” He asked. “Well.. it’s midterm… so… since the beginning..” you whispered, scratching your neck. “SINCE SEPTEMBER?!” Jim explained, pounding a fist on the table. You sat and he disappeared. You had thought he went to bed before he returned. “We have work to do, my dear.” He slammed a math book on your desk, which seemed to be yours. He flicked through it and saw none of the homework was done, making his fists ball up. “As of next term I will be taking over that class. Don’t you worry.” He whispered, grabbing a pen and sitting down right beside you. You groaned and glared down at the sheets. Just as he started to jot down the first equation, there was a knock at the door. You bolted to it, swinging it open to reveal Connor and Ned. “Uh, you free for a beer?” Ned asked. Before Jim could stand, you nodded and grabbed your coat. “BE BACK LATER, SIR!” You shouted, giggling. You heard him running so you slammed the door and sprinted off with the two boys, all three of you laughing in unison. “Y/N! GET BACK HERE!” You heard Jim shout down the hall, angrily flinging the door open. Math could wait.


End file.
